


With Salt in Your Hair and My Hand in Yours

by stharridan



Category: Saiyuki: Journey West (Video Game)
Genre: Community: cotton_candy_bingo, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stharridan/pseuds/stharridan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanzo has never been to the sea before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Salt in Your Hair and My Hand in Yours

Sanzo has never been this close to the sea before. The Golden Temple sits amidst the rocks and foliage of a mountain range, isolated from towns and villages; Sanzo’s nose twitches to the salty tang of the breeze, so unlike the cool mountain air that she has grown accustomed to.

She sneezes, drawing a chuckle from her companion.

“The sea wind getting to you?”

Sanzo shakes her head, sniffs, excuses herself. “Just not used to it.”

“Ah, well, it doesn’t take one long to fully enjoy the gifts of the sea.” Gojo tips his head back, closes his eyes to the glare of the setting sun. “You’ll like it soon enough.”

With a hand, she shields her sight from the horizon’s orange-and-red flare. “The sun here seems different from the one back home,” she says, more to herself. “The way it sets… It just seems so… sad.”

“No two people see something in exactly the same way.” Gojo stops mid-stride and turns to face her. “Are you still thinking about the devil we encountered on Ice Peak?”

Sanzo does not meet his eyes. Sometimes she hates how Gojo can read her, see right into her heart better than anyone else.

She shivers, Deva’s scarred face clouding her mind’s eye.

Afraid.

Sanzo swallows hard, desperate to hide her fear, hide the way it is finally taking its toll on her. She cannot let it show, never, not to Goku, not to Ryorin, Hakkai, Kikka, Lady Kannon, especially not to Master Gojo, _never_ -

“Sanzo.” She feels a hand upon her shoulder, gentle yet insistent. “Look at me, Sanzo.”

Sanzo tears herself away from the sea, looks at him, looks into those blue, blue eyes, those worried eyes, and she almost breaks. She feels a stab of pain deep inside her chest. She feels the thin, sinister fingers of fear wrap themselves around her throat. She feels the guilt swelling within her.

But she does not falter.

She forces a smile, like she always, always does.

“I’m okay.”

Gojo’s frown deepens; he does not believe her, as always.

“Are you sure?”

Sanzo nods, pulls away, keeps walking.

She cannot let it show, never.

“Aren’t you going to take some time off for a swim, Master Gojo?” She looks over her shoulder at him, and he jogs to catch up. “You’re water-oriented, aren’t you?”

Gojo nods, though she can see that he is still dwelling on their exchange prior.

“I’m more taken to rivers and lakes, though. This… it’s much too concentrated for me.” He looks out to sea, its surface shimmering with the sun’s final rays. “I’m more a freshwater person.”

“When this is all over, you should come to the Golden Temple with me.” Sanzo remembers a place hidden in the mountains, a place where Elder Homei would take her, along with a small group of young monks, to train their minds, harness their spirits and be one with nature. “There’s a waterfall nearby, a big one, and a lake. He says that it’s blessed by the gods.” Her heart softens at the mere mention of Elder Homei. “He found me near the waterfall, he said. Sometimes, when the position of the sun’s just right, you can see rainbows among the falls.”

“You miss your home.”

Sanzo chuckles under her breath. “It can’t be helped. I’ve never left the temple before. I did imagine myself going on a journey somewhere – a journey less dangerous, of course – but never thought that it would actually come true.”

A stray laugh leaves him. “It will all be over soon, I promise you. And then I’ll go with you back to the temple and you can show me that waterfall.”

“You’ll like it there, I know.” Sanzo tries not to think about the chances of them all surviving this last leg of the journey. The devils are intent on hunting them down for the staff, and it would be nigh impossible for one, or even a few, to not stand between them and the Thunder Temple.

She tries not to think about anything, anything of Deva and Mahoraga and the staff, even as she feels its holy power pulsing from within her robes, reaching into her heart and soul.

She thinks instead of how nice the breeze is, how its scent stings her nose with salt, how it runs through her hair like a mother’s tender fingers. Gojo is silent beside her, eyes closed once again. It is rare for Gojo to allow his guard to fall like this; Sanzo finds herself wishing it would happen more often.

She reaches out, touches his hand with her fingertips. She wants to feel it at least once, the hand that has been fighting to protect her. It has kept her safe all this while, and for that she is forever grateful.

Just as she is withdrawing, however, Gojo takes her hand in his, and she realizes too late that her fingers are trembling. His grip is tight, reassuring, comforting. Sanzo holds on, thankful that the rest of them are a ways ahead.

Sanzo holds on with whatever strength she has left. She cannot let the fear show, not the fear.

Never the fear.


End file.
